


Aston

by SgtPepper007



Series: Oneshots [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Mental Anguish, Psychological, Road Trips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-11-22 16:48:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20877476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SgtPepper007/pseuds/SgtPepper007
Summary: The night is long, not necessarily longer than usual, but particularly heavy. He wishes only one thing; to escape from reality, his car guiding him in his nightly escapade. And it leads him towards a fate he most certainly never expected.





	Aston

**Author's Note:**

> This oneshot was strongly influenced by [Aston](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cim320I4A1I) from Jiwoo. Thank you for being the cure to the most awful and long writing block I've ever had. I dearly missed writing. And thank you to my friends for supporting me throughout my writing block, that isn't finished, but that is at least more bearable.

His eyelids fluttered open, weighing a ton, as a wide and long yawn distorted his face for a moment, eyes and nose scrunching before his eyelids shut for a short while. Silence filled the room as it was engulfed in the soundless hours, only his breathing and bed sheets shuffling by his movements piercing the void. He took a long and discouraged breath, the knot in his stomach nowhere near gone, before opening his eyelids again with difficulty. The room was as pitch dark as the darkness he was engulfed in with his eyes closed, a world he desperately wanted to be plunged into that would lead him to dreamland, yet incapable of doing so. He didn’t know what time it was, for how long he had been trying to fall asleep, for how many hours or minutes it had been the case. He silently hoped it was several hours, because it sure felt like it, to say the least, but he didn’t dare look at the time. Ignorance sometimes was a better route to take.

His eyelids were incredibly heavy, his body ached in fatigue and his mind begged for some rest, yet the latter hadn't proven to be achievable as of yet. His entire being was antagonising and he felt it even more strongly that night. Or that morning, he wasn’t so sure. Drinking tea hadn’t made its wonders and listening to music didn’t work in lulling him to sleep either. The only results were that he had to get up to go to the toilet at least three times and that a soft and slow piano song was stuck in his head, playing a melancholic melody over and over again for only his mind to hear. It was hauntingly aching.

A sigh escaped his lips as he suddenly felt his facial muscles contract, tears prickling at the corner of his eyes without warning. He fought against it for a moment by blinking, tensing the muscles in his whole body and moving almost nervously in order to shut his nerves down, the sheets under him being noisy in the process. He guessed that it was the stress piled up from the previous months weighing down on him that caused him to crumble to pieces at last. But after engaging in the fierce and useless battle against the numerous forming tears, he gave up at the thought that maybe crying himself to sleep would be an option to finally be able to fall into the slumber he dearly wished for, or that it could maybe make him feel a little bit better. He stopped moving around his bed and let his tears roll down along his face, wetting his cheeks, the corners of his mouth, and his neck as the drops slid freely. He tried to sob silently but he couldn’t contain a few whimpers going past his lips, quivering. 

He disliked crying. The process of it was painful and he found the sensation of his insides twisting and his tensed muscles uncomfortable. He didn’t like when his body was as vulnerable, when it couldn’t control the spasms invading it, his face from scrunching uglily; simply his body washing away his and his body’s pain distressfully. To add more to the mix, the sad melody whirling in his mind only worsened his sobs, like it was coaxing him into crying until he would collapse, singing to him that it was alright. He listened to its sorrowful plead and completely ceased to try and get a hold of his control. He gave himself to the music and his deepest and hidden self.

When the tears finally stopped falling, he sniffed a few times, an attempt to avoid having to get up to pick tissues, but eventually wiped his tear stained face with his old worn out t-shirt he used as sleepwear and the corner of his sheets. After a moment, his body calmed down; he felt like a puddle, his flesh and muscles completely relaxed and molding their curves into the mattress. He found the process of crying unpleasant, but the sensation of having been washed away from any physical worries was great. If his mind wasn’t at peace, at least his body was.

But his crying session failed to lull him to sleep. He spent what he believed could be around an hour, which was probably less, with his eyes closed in fatigue and his body free of any tension, yet he still couldn’t fall asleep. He wasn’t so sure why he was particularly emotional that night, why he had the sudden outburst of tears, but he could feel his mental anguish more clearly than ever.

Without thinking twice, he slowly sat up on his bed, letting his feet dangle from the side for a moment before getting up and changing clothes. He put on the first pieces of clothing his hands grazed; a pair of shorts and a grey t-shirt that had seen better days. He quickly grabbed his wallet and his keys, taking an apple resting on the kitchen table at the same time, and wore his most comfortable pair of sandals. He walked towards his car while another yawn broke away, an old cream Jeep Renegade he couldn’t detach himself from, unlocked it and sat on the driver’s seat. He let his head fall on the headrest for a second as he closed his eyelids in thought, opening them again while turning the ignition switch before second guessing his intention. He glanced at the time in habit: 3:09 am.

He was only fully conscious of his actions when he took the nearest highway to his apartment complex. The road was deserted, his car being the only one taking that route at that moment. It was a rare occurrence for a driver to be around at this time of day, especially in the early hours on a Tuesday. He also wasn’t in one of the biggest cities of the country, which wasn’t much populated to begin with. He rolled the window of his side down, the late summer air caressing his disheveled hair in every possible direction. He wasn’t usually the type to act on impulse, especially at this time of day, yet something stronger than his conscience took hold of him. He dearly needed an escape, any form of it. His car was the way, it seemed.

He didn’t bother turning the volume of the radio up, relishing into the motor’s roars and the quietness of the deserted highway, the song stuck in his mind accompanying him softly in his unplanned journey. He had no idea about what he was doing, and was even less aware of the place he was heading towards, taking the directions he felt like at that moment and not caring about where he was in the slightest. While he felt awful, with the breeze embracing his unwanted thoughts and the depths of the night plunging him into a state of safety yet desolation, he followed his urges and, for once in his lifetime, succumbed to what his body and mind had been pleading him to do for multiple weeks on end.

His stomach violently rumbling saved him from crashing into a pole at the side of the highway, his eyes suddenly blinking open. He abruptly drove his car towards the opposite side as soon as he registered that he was drifting off the road and that he was approaching an obstacle at high speed, making the tires loudly screech and his body jerk at the violent movement, successfully avoiding the pole, his nerves kicking in at the adrenaline and fear of what would have happened if he wouldn’t have awoken in time. He didn’t even feel his eyelids close. 

It wasn’t long before he came across a rest area where cars could park and use what looked like abandoned restrooms. He parked his car with shaking hands, stopped the engine and rubbed his eyes with a sigh as he felt his blood pump energetically in his veins and his heart beat erratically against his chest, still struck by the potential accident a moment earlier. He couldn’t sleep a wink at home yet he could easily do so while driving. When he had managed to ease the shock of the accident he almost had, he fished his apple out of the compatiment he left it in and breathed deeply while focusing and savouring the quiet sounds of the night and the surroundings; the crickets chirping wildly, the wind blowing and the rustling of the trees around him. He found himself being appeased by the nature’s melodies, comforting his lonely heart and slowing his heart rate.

When his eyelids fluttered open again, the sun was rising, painting the sky in bright orange and yellow hues. The sun blinded him shortly, making him blink them at the sudden intrusion of light. He yawned widely and lifted his upper body that was bent over the steering wheel. He stretched his body, which cracked in protest, and took a second to take in his surroundings; he was still in the rest area he had parked in before unknowingly falling asleep. The realisation that he was missing a day of work without prior notice, or even without intending to, knocked him once he started to fully be awake. He would be in deep shit if he couldn’t call his boss. It’s when he grabbed his phone that he found that the battery had died, that he had left his charger at home and that he had no idea of his whereabouts. Maybe his nightly escapade wasn’t that much of a wise idea.

He cursed under his breath and decided that, fuck it, he would take himself wherever his car would lead him to. He quickly made sure that his car tank was full -he would seriously be doomed if his car would abandon him in a deserted highway without a communication device- and repeated soothing words over and over again in his mind while he switched the motor on and went back to the highway, which he noted was an isolated one, in the direction of the unknown. His nerves were in their peak as the anxiousness of having acted on impulse drawn on him. It was out of character and being in a situation he had no control over was one of the most stressful things for him. 

He imposed himself on a guilt trip during the first half of the ride, wondering what had gotten into him during the night for him to act so recklessly, to put himself in trouble while he could have avoided that by simply following his routine and ignoring the very own reasons he decided to escape. He accused himself of being thoughtless and mumbled a few curses, regretting his decision as his nerves were agitated, the relaxation of his earlier sobbing session having long ceased its soothing effects over his body. 

Maybe it wasn’t worth it to risk his job and comfort zone only for the sake of avoiding his regrets and doubts. Maybe not being able to handle the fissure between his past and moving on wasn’t a good enough reason to act in such a way. He had managed to ignore his strong desire to escape his reality the past months; why couldn’t he have done it one more day? However, his instincts were louder than ever before. He didn’t have the strength to pretend. His thoughts and feelings were burning him alive, scratching his insides violently as it kept nurturing his fears. What fears? He wasn’t sure. But he knew that he wasn’t ready to move on from the past he was chained to, from his past self that he wished he wouldn’t have left to become someone he hated, from his current relationships that were falling apart in front of his own eyes without him having the power to change it. He liked how things were back then, before things changed without him being conscious of it, and he wasn’t prepared to grieve them. All of them weren’t the fruit of his own will and the weight was too heavy to bear at this point. He was too hung onto the past and had no clue about how he could overcome that. He had refused to admit it until now, but it felt painfully obvious at that moment.

In the midst of all the thoughts, accusations and denials swirling in his mind, he read a familiar name in a road sign flashing before his eyes. He couldn’t quite place it, but it felt oddly heartwarming to read it, no matter how hard he tried to remember when or where he read the town’s name before and failing at placing any pieces together. Since he had been impulsive and thought that things couldn’t get worse, he decided that he would take the next exit towards the town. He was already knee deep in trouble anyway. It took a while before he faintly recognised the surroundings; it was a secluded town, a rural area with mostly endless fields and a couple of farms and nothing much aside from it. The sun was now higher in the sky and a few thick clouds covered the light blue shades. It was a place he strangely had the feeling of having been to when he was much younger. 

Before his eyes would close by themselves again, his heavy eyelids threatening to plunge him into darkness at the lack of decent sleep, he stopped by a random house he had crossed on the side of one of the arteries of the main road of the large unpopulated town. He glanced at the clock and turned the engine down: 8:34 am. He wasn’t aware that he had driven so far away. He inhaled and exhaled repeatedly for a minute in an attempt to calm down and to ease the anxiety creeping in with agility, his body trembling. He tried to convince himself that the situation couldn’t be that bad, that he wasn’t in danger and that he shouldn’t stress so much about his current situation. With each breath he took, he repeated soothing words like a mantra, all the while the fresh and natural air from the rural town penetrated his nostrils in reassurance.

His almost successful meditative state was interrupted by a knock on the window at the opposite passenger side. He jumped, startled, and met eyes with an old man, probably in his 60s, he guessed. He cautiously watched the older man’s features and his eyes lit up in realisation.

He knew that man. Actually, he didn’t know him personally, but he knew who it was; the man was his uncle, his father's only sibling he had left. He had only met him a couple of times when he was younger, surely not past early high school, during the period in his life when his parents went to visit him before they had a serious argument he had never been knowledgeable of, and cut ties with him. The man had brutally aged; he had many deep wrinkles carved in his face, short grey hair, paired with a matching coloured beard. He was wearing a faded brown long sleeves shirt and dark blue jeans. His big and calloused hands showed a lifetime of harsh labour, earth stuck in his nails as well as in a few wrinkles on his flesh. 

“Do you need help? Directions?” a husky voice sounded from the other side of the window, one he couldn't place but that felt oddly familiar. His voice took him back to reality as he realised he had been staring. He rolled the window down and looked questioningly, stunned and unable to process any kind of information at the sight of a man he could barely recognise, but could still recall from a few pictures he had seen of the old man. But as much as he had aged, the older man definitely was his uncle; his eyes, facial features and overall allure didn't lie.

“What?” he asked un intelligently. 

His uncle looked at him curiously after taking a glimpse at his attire, “I asked if you need help.” Of course, the old man couldn’t have recognised him; they hadn’t seen each other in around twenty years. The other man might have concluded that he was lost, since he was clearly not an inhabitant of the town. 

Without him realising it, tears started to fall down his face. The older man looked perplexed while the younger one’s gentle cries continued and climbed in intensity, emotions crashing upon him with force. The thought that he probably looked like a madman crossed in his mind for a second; crying like a baby, with his eyes puffy, red and sore, wild hair strands sticking everywhere and wearing unmatched clothes. His sobs were mixed with a few chuckles, body shaking and washed away with an energy he couldn’t quite comprehend. He had always disliked crying, but somehow at that moment, it didn’t feel as wrong or as painful as usual. 

After a couple of minutes passed under the confused expression of the older man, he choked one last sob and smiled at him while he understood a part of the emotions being of relief. "Aston," he pronounced the name, eyes locked with the other man, "Do you remember someone called like that?"

The older man raised his eyebrows in confusion while watching him with curiosity, "Aston? I do know a boy with this name, yes. Why are you asking me that?" The old man looked seriously perplexed as he watched the younger, his interest visibly caught. 

It’s only then, after a moment, that something changed in his deep brown orbs, the younger one noticing how the eyes looking at him were now sparkling with a new kind of intensity. He watched with amusement the process of the other man’s eyes widening as he recognised him. "Aston," the latter whispered his name, tentatively, and when the young man wiped his remaining tears with his arms, eyes stinging with already new forming ones, his uncle called out his name again, this time like an affirmation, although questioning in disbelief. 

Aston choked in new streams of tears that were freed from the enclosure of his eyes before he chuckled and locked eyes with the older man, someone he only held fond memories of. Just like in his faint memories, the man emanated warmth and tranquility. He might have acquired more of it with age, he reasoned. “Uncle Charles” he breathed out almost inaudibly, voice cracking and flooded of emotions.

The older man observed him a while longer and without prior notice, his eyes blurred with tears as well. “Is it really you?” he choked out in between sobs.

Aston nodded once again, this time with vigor, “Yes, it’s me.”

“I never thought we would meet again. And you look like shit.”

The younger man laughed while his tears held no sign of stopping, “I can’t deny it. I really do.”

His uncle stared disbelievingly at him for a moment before urging him outside of the car. They stood in front of each other for a while, face to face, while scrutinising each other with great curiosity and emotion. Neither of them uttered a word, sniffing and the wind still blowing echoing around them. His uncle seemed stunned while looking at his features from head to toe, mirroring his own expression as he was observing the older man with attention. It wasn’t before they crashed into each other’s arms that the troubled man felt his worries truly be swiped away.


End file.
